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The Peregrine Review

Abstract

Re-adjusting. Re-learning to be with family. To mom’s slippers outside my door at 7 A.M. like sandpaper wearing down a path in the walnut wood. Morning after morning, in this Frankenstein house, making the same breakfast for different cats year after year. Mom telling dad not to burn the pancakes. Coffee out of a cup that is from 1982, the black flowers never wilted, the rim never chipped. How did it ever make it out without a scratch, through seven children and an Army lifestyle?

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